


We Were Romeo and Juliet

by wafflehousehours



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: AHS, Angst, F/M, Not a Love Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:03:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29598039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflehousehours/pseuds/wafflehousehours
Summary: We were like Romeo and Juliet. Absolutely nothing about us could be considered a love story.
Relationships: Tate Langdon/Reader
Kudos: 6





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! For the purpose of this fanfic things are changed around a bit. You live in the Murder House instead of The Langdons for fun plot purposes.
> 
> Also this is not a love story so don’t get your hopes up there

If you asked me about Junior year, I honestly couldn’t tell you much. Well I could tell you a lot of things in very specific details but that would probably make it awkward for everyone around. So I’ve learned to just avoid the topic of Junior year all together. It was suppose to be the year of your greatest academic achievements before college but I can’t remember anything aside from that horrid day in 1994, and the months of hell that followed.

That summer was...acceptable. My friend Tate lived right down the block and was moving out of his house. They lived in this big old mansion with beautiful stained glass windows but decided to rent it out and move into the house next door instead. Constance stated that the house was too big for them and that they could use the money, but it was really because her new boyfriend hated the house. With our parents being friends, we got asked if we’d like to move into the house, which was an automatic yes from my mother for her love of old Victorian type houses. Moving was probably my favorite memory of that summer. I only really met Tate that school year and this gave us a chance to become a lot closer. I always loved his house, I got to go over a few times when working on projects and for any holiday celebrations that Constance would invite me and my parents to. 

Our families helped each other move and it was a whole lot of chaos those first two weeks of summer. Tate and I spent most of it attempting to be interior design experts for each other’s new rooms, which turned into a horrific disaster and made doing our rooms take so much longer than it should have. With our close proximity it wasn’t long before our families started making jokes about us dating. And it was long before we found ourselves being more than friends. It was a subtle difference, but it was there, and it grew. Random hang outs turned into scheduled times to go star gazing or have movie marathons, mindlessly joking around turned into serious conversations, then there was the mid afternoon naps cuddled in one of our beds, or the nice outings to the local diner because that’s all we could afford. Neither of us realized the change at first, neither of us even asked the other out officially, we just became Us.


	2. End of Summer 1994

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junior year approaches...the clock is ticking

“Y/N?” I heard my mom call out as I opened the door to the house and shrugged off my coat.

“Yeah?” I shouted back. Mom came out from the kitchen, her smile dropped at the clear exhaustion on my face.

“Tate still fighting with Larry and mom?” She asked, already knowing the answer. Ever since the move Larry and Constance have been more harsh on all the kids, especially Tate. Things have been tense between our parents recently, they’re still nice to each other, but after the stories I brought home from being at Tate’s so often, mom turned cold to the adult occupying the Langdon house. “That family is inhumane. I don’t understand how someone can just neglect their kids like that. Especially Beau.” Beau was Tate’s brother, who has craniodiaphyseal dysplasia. Constance is ashamed of him so he’s not allowed outside. However, I make sure to visit his room every time I go over. He likes to play with this red ball and we pass it back and forth while Tate watches, sometimes Addie joins too.

“Do you think we can invite Tate and Addie over tomorrow and make cookies? Tate seems to be getting really stressed and I think having a break would help.” I asked mother.

“Of course, Y/N. They’re allowed to come over whenever they like. This technically still is there house if you think about it.”

The last few weeks of the summer consisted of just that. Tate and even Addie were over so often that we usually set a place for them at the dinner table just in case they showed up. I really wish Beau could come over as well, I know he misses his old house, but Constance would never allow it. The closer school got, the more stressed Tate got. Larry wasn’t being any easier on him, but I can tell how relaxed he get when he gets to listen to music in my room and fiddle with all my knickknacks on my shelves and dresser. He would admit it but I know he misses living here. I reminds him of a time before Larry. Before things got worse than they already are. He’s not too excited about school either, he’s not the most popular person and there’s some real assholes at our school, but I just try to have him think of school as a whole 7 hour escape from his parents. That seems to help, especially right now as we lay in my bed, the first day of junior year being the following morning. 

“I hope you do know that I’m not going to my first class since you have a free period in the morning.” Tate said after a few seconds of silence.

“And I hope you know I’m only allowing you to do this once because I know you don’t wanna fail English and there’s no way I’m tutoring your ass.”

“You would if I asked.”

“Oh no I wouldn’t.”

“Yes you would.” He said, his head lifting slightly up from where it rested on my chest to look at me. “You would because you love me and it would kill you to see me fail a class knowing you did nothing to help.” He got me there. Instead of answering I pushed him away by his forehead.

“Be lucky I’m even letting you skip tomorrow.”

“Okay mom.” He stated. I looked at him. He stared back. He knew he fucked up. “I love you.” He said before he burst out laughing.

“You better.” I said, my own laughter joining in.


	3. A Day For Westfield To Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is your TRIGGER WARNING!  
> Mentions of: violence, murder, arson, school shootings, guns, depression, vomiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this story may seem like it’s going very fast but I assure you there’s a purpose to that and it will make more sense later

I finished putting on my mascara stressed as hell. I somehow managed to misplace half my school items, including my backpack. Not only that but Tate never showed up this morning. I checked his house soon after breakfast and Constance said he’s been gone all morning. I took a deep breath. Logically, he probably just ended up going to class..but that didn’t sit right with me. Not when he was so dead set on skipping first period to be with me this morning. Maybe Constance and Larry became too much and he decided to go to school rather then bug me about it? That didn’t feel right either.

I finally found my backpack and started gathering my school supplies when the phone rang. Both my parents were already at work so I answered, knowing I still had a few minutes before I actually had to get into my car and drive to school. “Hello?” It was my best friend Carmen, and little did I know, what she was going to change my life forever with just 5 words.

“Tate’s shooting up the school.”

You know that feeling you get where your heart drops into your stomach and your legs go numb as you feel the bile threatening to crawl up your throat? How your mind stops and all you can think about is pressing some rewind button as your skin melts into a puddle onto the floor? This feeling was worse than that. 

“W-What?” My voice was shaking. So we’re my hands. Did I hear her correctly? I can barely feel the phone touching the skin of my palm, I clutch the phone tighter, afraid of dropping it. 

“Y/N” Her voice was still panicked but she knew she had to slow down to get what she was saying through my head. “Tate showed up halfway through first period with a gun.” Oh my god. “He’s shooting up the school.” 

I’m confused. My mind is running so fast like it’s in a marathon. I can’t even focus on one through before another pops up. Is that where Tate was? Are you sure it’s him? Are people dead? How do you know this? How can you be calling me right no-Then it hit me. Carmen is the only one of my friends who has a cell phone. She’s not home, she’s still at the school. “Carmen where are you?!” I panicked. Tate wouldn’t shoot Carmen right? Then it sunk in. The Tate I thought I knew wouldn’t shoot anyone. 

“I’m behind my car in the parking lot. I was walking down the hall going to the bathroom when the shots when off from in front of me.” She was crying now, still trying to be somewhat quiet, “I saw the back of Tate’s head and a kid in front of him on the ground soaked in blood. I ran out of the front doors before I could even fully process what was going on. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I called you. I’m just glad I got to you before you left your house.” 

I didn’t even notice I started crying. “One second Carmen” I mumbled before running to the opposite counter and throwing up hard in the sink. I try to catch my breath, it keeps coming faster. Eventually, I’m able to calm down and use the sink faucet to wash out my mouth. I needed to get back on the phone with Carmen. 

“Sorry about that.” I said as I pick up the receiver from the counter. “What’s happening now?”

“No no it’s okay.” She reassured me. “I’m not sure. I don’t hear gunshots anymore but I’m too afraid to move. It actually been quiet for a bit. Honestly it’s scaring the crap out of me.” She was whispering now. 

“If there’s no one in the parking lot do you think you could get into your car an-“ The doorbell rang. My heart froze. Relax, it’s probably just a salesman. They spammed the doorbell, and my heart dropped even more.

“Y/N...” Carmen said hearing the commotion. “Is that...” she didn’t even want to suggest it. It would explain why the shooting stopped.

“I don’t know.” I said quietly, ducking lower to hide myself behind the kitchen island, out of sight from the windows. I heard Tate call my name from outside the door. And I remembered I had the door unlocked in case he showed up. “It’s him.” I said quietly, the door opened.

“Y/N the police just got here. I’ll tell them where he is. Keep him outside and if you can’t act like you don’t know.” I nodded despite the fact she couldn’t see me and hung up the phone. I grabbed a tissue and whipped my eyes and blew my nose before calling out to Tate. 

He walked into the kitchen. His hair was slicked back and there seemed to be a little bit of some sort of black makeup on the side of his face, but otherwise he looked like...well...Tate. He looked like my boyfriend that I had the summer of a lifetime with. The boy I watched the stars with and made s’mores with on clear nights. The boy who had anger issues but couldn’t hurt a fly. He was speaking to me.

“Sorry what?”

“I asked if you were okay.” Tate said coming closer. I wanted to flinch back but I remembered Carmens words. Act like you don’t know. 

“Yeah. I’ve had allergies all morning but now I’m starting to wonder if it’s a cold.” I went to throw my tissue in the trash. He followed me and put the back of his fingers on my forehead.

“You’re a bit warm, sweetheart.” He said giving me a sad smile. I’ve use to love it when he called me sweetheart. Now I feel the bile threaten to creep up my throat again. I force it back down. He pushed some of my hair behind my ear and I noticed his hands shaking along with my whole body. He stared at me like he couldn’t get enough of me, like I would disappear from under him. Like he knew I would if I could.

Act like you don’t know.

Chose your next words carefully. “Are you okay? You didn’t show up this morning.” His face drops, my stomach falls.

“I...no. Y/N I...” He’s slightly panicking, a tear slipped down his cheek. Oh shit he’s going to tell me. Am I in danger right now? Does he have a weapon? Is he going to hurt me? Calm down. The police are on their way. Distract him. Stall him. And most importantly, act like you don’t know.

“Hey hey hey look at me.” I said whipping the tear away. “Deep breaths...yeah there you go. Let’s get you some water and we can talk.” He nodded and watched as I grabbed a cup from the cabinet and filled it up with tap water from the sink. Praying he didn’t pay too much attention and spot the vomit still scattered in the metallic bowl. I handed the cup to him and he seemed to chug it almost instantly. 

“Can we go to your room, please?” Fuck. 

Act like you don’t know. “Of course.” I lead him up the stairs. We got to my room. I closed the door. He sat on my bed. I stood in front of him. I wanted to bolt. My feet were glued to the floor. 

“I did something really bad, Y/N.” He said, his head down. “And you’re going to hate me for it.”

I already did, but he couldn’t know that. “I could never hate you, love.” Lie. Just lie. 

“No you’re going to hate me and leave me.” He was sobbing now.

“No I won’t.” I knew this wasn’t enough to convince him, I had to go further and just pray it wasn’t the wrong thing to say. “I won’t because I already know what happened and I’m still right here.” I said slowly coming closer. Feeling like I’m walking into a mouse trap and that I’d feel a gaping whole in my abdomen, spewing blood, at any second. I was going to die.

Instead, Tate looked up at me and hugged me, causing me to fall into a seated position next to him. I was okay. He knows I know. He just needs to cry. It’s okay. I’m okay. He’s...he’s not. People are school are not okay. People are school are dead.

Because Tate killed them. With a gun. During first period.

“Tate, honey.” I lifted his head up from my shoulder. “Tate, listen to me this is important.” He looked up at me. “Do you have a weapon on you?” I asked slowly. He nodded. Here goes nothing. “Can I have it?” He sat up and stilled for a second before nodding again. He got to his feet and reached into his jeans behind him. I froze in fear, he noticed, he moved slower, bringing the gun out with one hand and slowly placing it on the bed. I just stared at it.

“The safety is on. You can touch it.” I picked it up carefully, hands far from the trigger, and quickly put in on my dresser as Tate sat back down in his spot on my bed. The bed where we spent hours wrapped in each other’s arms last night talking about our first day of school. 

That felt like years ago. And that boy is not the boy sitting on my bed right now. The boy that laid in my bed last night is dead, and this form of death took its place. 

“Can I have some more water?” He asked. I nodded and went to the door before pausing and staring at the gun on the dresser. “I won’t touch it. I promise you.” I nod slowly before leaving the room and heading down the spiral staircase. I went into the kitchen and stopped, listening for any sounds of movement. There was none, Tate was staying in my spot on my bed. I’m okay. 

That’s when I saw the lights outside my house. Red and blue flashing through the windows. The sirens weren’t on. My bedroom window looked over the backyard. Tate didn’t know they were here. I walked swiftly to the door and opened it slowly, avoiding the creek that’s there when you open it too fast. I step outside and put my arms up slightly as the police turned my way and started heading up the driveway. That’s when I noticed there weren’t just cops. S.W.A.T. Was there too. They approached me and I signaled them to be quiet. The two officers surrounded by people in full black police gear nodded and asked if Tate was in there. I said yes, that he was in my room, that he had a gun, that the gun was now on the dresser, that he doesn’t seem dangerous right now. They wanted me to stay back and get me down to the driveway but I refused. If I leave Tate in there and police rush in, he’ll think I abandoned him, he will reach for the gun, and they will shoot him. But if I go in before the cops, Tate will do what I say. Tate shot up the school on my free period because he knew I wouldn’t be there to see him do it. I also know he wouldn’t risk me witnessing his death. The last thing he wants to do is hurt me, but that damage is already done. 

I walked up the stairs, the S.W.A.T. Team directly behind me, guns ready, being as quiet as possible. They surround each side of my bedroom door keeping out of sight as I open it.

“Tate?” He looks up. He hasn’t moved from his spot and the gun is still on the dresser. I move into the room and put myself between him and my dresser. “The cops are here for you.” His face was blank yet filled with so many emotions it was hard to decipher them all.

“Okay.” He said quietly. On that cue the room was swarmed, I was escorted out. Tate was arrested without issue and the gun was now in police custody. I was walked out of the house and down to the driveway. My parents were there, probably called from work. As I reached the end of the driveway they hugged me. I hugged back loosely not able to understand all of my emotions. As my parents cling on to me saying how brave I was, I was staring at Constance, her mouth open in shock at the commotion while shouting at officers. 

“That is my son!” She yelled. Anything else after that faded out. 

I saw Addie sitting on the front steps of her house looking confused. I knew Beau was inside. But I didn’t see Larry.


	4. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> mentions of depression, school shootings, death, murder, arson

Only in the following days I learned what really happened at Westfield High that morning. Tate Langdon, my former boyfriend, but boyfriend at the time, walked in through the front doors with a assault rifle and skeleton face paint. In the few minutes he was there, he shot and killed 15 students in the hallways, cafeteria, and library. Half an hour before that? He showed up to his mothers boyfriends office with gasoline and a lighter and set him on fire. After that he fled the school and, according to the news, held me hostage for 35 minutes while waiting for the cops to arrive. 

All the TVs in the house were unplugged. It’s all the news was playing. They’re calling it The Westfield High Massacre. School was put off for another month and there’s rumors about transferring all students to a neighboring high school for the year. I wouldn’t be going back though. I haven’t been inside my room since Tate last left it. I sleep in between my parents, I make them bring me clothes from my closet, I can tell they’re getting sick of it. They took me to a doctor where I was diagnosed with PTSD and now I’m in weekly counseling which I honestly don’t think is helping much.

I mostly spend my days sitting on the couch with a blanket, staring at the blank tv screen, just listening to the sounds around the house. When my mind isn’t blank it’s replaying those first words Camren told me when I picked up the phone. Dad had to uninstalled the doorbell, It threw me into a panic attack every time it went off, especially when Addie came over and spammed the doorbell like she always use to do. Mom had to explain to her why she can’t do that anymore, she didn’t quite understand, but they left the physical button on the wall so she can knock and then press the button as many times as she wants without the noise of it. She seems to like that. 

I’ve seen a lot more of Addie lately. We’ve talked about Tate a bit, she missed him a lot but Constance takes her to visit often. She updates me about him even though I don’t ask, but I let her. I ask about Beau and she tells me he’s not around anymore. Larry said he went to a better place. Larry. That bastard. It wasn’t hard to connect all the pieces after that. My heart ached for Beau, he did not deserve whatever ending Larry gave to him. From that it’s not hard to guess what triggered Tate that day. 

Addie and I watch a lot of movies, and we make brownies instead of the cookies we use to make. It’s nice. I’ve seen Camren a few times as well. She’s pretty shook up about the whole thing, and immediately went to go live with her dad in North Carolina. Far far away from sunny California. 

We’re moving too. Mom wants to go to Montana to live near her parents again as they’re getting older, we just have to wait for the trial before we actually move. They didn’t want to go through the extra effort of flying back and forth. Boxes are slowly getting packed, my room is already ready to go. It was an easy pack considering I gave anything that had memories of Tate to goodwill, which unfortunately contained most of my music records. My taste was outdated anyways. 

I know the plan is for Constance, Addie, and Larry to move back into the house. After some consideration, they figured it would be too hard to sell with all the news attention on it and that moving back in and renting out the house next door instead would be more ideal. Or at least that’s what Constance told Larry, who somehow survived the whole incident. 

Addie wasn’t at the trial. My dad watched her while my mom came with me to court. I know she wanted to come, she wanted to see Tate again, and she wanted justice for Beau. 

Constance defended incident Larry on the stand and testified against Tate, of course. I testified against Tate, retelling my story after Camren, who flew back in for the trial, as he watched from across the courtroom. He had a blank look on his face. It scared the shit out of me. I picture that was the face he had when he walked into the school that Thursday morning.

The room shifted when I was asked if I knew what triggered Tate. The easy answer would be Larry and Constance’s constant neglect and abuse. But then I thought of Addie, she lost her two brothers and is losing her best friend next door in such a short time span. So thinking of her, I mentioned Beau. Constance tried to interrupt me and started yelling, she was escorted out of the court room. I told the judge and jury about Beau, about the small room he never left, how he was never allowed outside or at the dinner table, how Constance had him on a leash like a dog and pretended he doesn’t exist. 

From the other side of the courtroom I see Tate smile. He’s been waiting for year for his mother to get caught for what she’s done to Beau. I don’t smile back. I’m not doing this for him.


	5. Moving on From The Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life from here on out

Montana was very pretty. Almost pretty enough to forget the fact that I got 3 people put in jail for life. Tate is in on 15 life sentences, one for each of the victims, without a chance for parole. Sometimes I think about the 17 year old boy I knew over the summer and sophomore year and feel bad, but it only ever lasts a few seconds. 

Addie is currently a ward of the state of California, but my parents are currently working their asses of to get a foster care license to get her into our house. They’ve treated her like a daughter for the past year, they were more parental figures to her than Constance ever was. Until then, I’ve been making her a scrapbook of pictures of us, her and Tate, her and Beau, pressed flowers, and little poems for her. Beaus red ball is on my desk while I work. Addie gave it to me as a going away gift. 

Our old house has officially been foreclosed. No one wanted to buy it after learning about the abuse that went down there while The Langdon’s lived there, and Constance and Larry had no use for it being in their new permanent jail cell. My testimony caused more trials to be brought into Constance and Larry. Apparently some digging was done and Larry confessed to murdering his wife and kids soon after he met Constance. I can’t believe I use to eat dinner with these people. 

My new school is nice. It’s currently November , the year anniversary went and passed and I’m still stuck in Junior year. My own personal nightmare. My parents tried putting me into the new school then I’d just have to do some summer school to be caught up, but being in a school building scared me. People recognized me from the televised trial, and Westfield was always a topic of conversation. I failed my classes and stopped going until my parents pulled me out and tried again next year at another school. This one seems to be working out. I even made some friends, Nellie and Jonah. They’ve really helped me out and they’re the only ones I’ve talked to about what happened in California. Anytime someone brought up Westfield in school, they were sure to shut it down fast. I appreciate them. I told them about Addie, they’re excited to meet her. Nellie even has a younger sister that Addie will probably get along with. 

November 8th. November 8th is when I started to get the letters. These were different than the death threats I got at the beginning of the trials. From parents of victims and students alike saying I should have know this was going to happen and I should have stopped him like I’m some type of therapist and not a 17 year old girl. No, these were from Tate.

The first few were fine. I was scared I’m how Tate got my addresses until I realized he just sent it to our house and the neighbors across the street forwarded it to us. The contact didn’t sit well with me at first but the letter seemed to be a simple thank you for Beau and Addie, and an apology for what he has done and put me through. I never responded. 

More letters came through. 

My sweetheart Y/N,

I can’t live with myself knowing you don’t forgive me. I will apologize over and over until you do. I am an awful person, I know that, but we both know I would never hurt you. Every time I close my eyes I see the fear in your face from that day. I’d do anything in my power to chance all of that. I miss you and would like to explain myself in person. Everyday I hope you come to visit but you never do. I just need to see you again. I need to hear your voice. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I don’t want to be the reason for your pain. 

I love you,  
Your Tate 

I ignored them, they continued.

To my dearest sweetheart Y/N,

I think about you often. I like to think about a universe were none of this happened and we run away from home and get married and have kids. We stargaze and show our kids constellations. We have a nice house with good paying jobs and I never have to see my parents again. Addie could live with us too! Do you still want to be a school teacher? I remember you talking about that a lot. You’d be the best teacher, kids would love you. I always admired the fact that you wanted to teach kids, I wish my teachers were as nice as you in school. 

Your favorite,  
Tate 

I ripped them up 

Y/N Sweetheart,

How are you? I picture you are studying a lot and reading. Listening to our favorite music. You still haven’t come to visit me which makes me sad. I hope you will one day. I’ve included some paper hearts I have made for Valentines Day. I put your favorite book quotes on them, maybe you could hang them on your wall. I wish I was with you for February 14th. I would have drove you to our favorite dinner then we could stargaze until early morning. Wish you would write back. 

Love you forever,   
Tate 

I burned the hearts alongside the letter and every book he quoted. Addie helped. She’s finally home with us and as happy as ever. We even put the doorbell button outside her bedroom door to press, without the noise, there’s still not a doorbell in our house. Hearing one always takes me back to the kitchen, gripping the tan phone receiver, nowhere to run.

I am trapped. I am damaged. I want to forget. But I will overcome.

I don’t open any of the letters after that. Maybe the return to sender will give him a hint 

I can’t keep thinking about what would have happened to the 17 year old boy on my bed who I loved if he didn’t storm out that morning. 

Just like I can’t stop thinking of Stephanie Boggs, Kelsey Jackson, Michael Rivera, Jay Cannavo, Mark Finstein, Luke Maxcy, Chloe Stapleton, Kevin Gedman, Andrew Meyers, Amir Stanley, Kyle Greenwell, Jason Mueller, Jennifer Wright, Danielle Levesque, and Josh Sathre and the lives they would have had. 

______

I finished typing, staring at the 15 names on my screen, and hit submit. 

“Did you do it?” Addie asked excitedly in my doorway.

“Yeah I did.” It’s been 3 years since I’ve graduated with the class of 1997, only a year behind my original class. It took a lot of therapy, summer school, and acceptance to get where I am. I spent the last two years pouring my focus into the present. My past will always be there, I can never change it or get my normal high school years back. But I can control where I go from here, and that includes University. The funny thing here is I spent all of sophomore year stressing about what I would even write for my college essay, just for me to know what to write without question the second the moment arrived.

I want to be a Social Worker. I want to get future Beaus and Tates in safe environments, with the help they need, instead of being ignored. I want to save these future kids. In the past few months I’ve also done some talks around schools about mental health. There’s been a few more school shootings since Tate took a gun into Westfield. I’ve gone to those schools to talk to the students afterwards about my experience and how to move forward. Beau’s red ball always in my jacket pocket when I speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this mini story! My intend for this story was to spread light on the real tragedy and trauma school shootings can give. And how harmful romanticism school shooters can be. 
> 
> I know a lot of people love Evan Peters and that’s totally okay! However, with all the Tate/Reader stories on the internet, I wanted to remind people the truth behind Tate’s characters and what the writers intended for it. Tate’s storyline was to represent Columbine, whose killers have a fan base. Which lead to half the schools in Colorado (including mine) be shut down for the day in 2019 before the 20th anniversary because someone obsessed with the shooters flew into the state and purchased a fire arm. To this day, Columbine gets over 100 visitors to the schools year. These are conversations that need to be talked about.
> 
> School shootings are such a issue in today’s world and although Tate is just a fictional character, we need to remember that he represents a lot of real people. 
> 
> You can like the character! Lots of bad/evil characters have interesting developments and storylines! Go ahead and have fun with /reader fanfics! But it’s sometimes nice to have a reminder what the canon story was trying to tell and why it’s important.


End file.
